Karna turned toward him fully.
"Your brother possesses dharma. But he does not possess enough strength to protect it alone."
The statement startled Arjuna. Karna slowly raised his hand toward one of the temple structures visible in the distance beyond the gardens.
"If I must describe your family," he said thoughtfully, "then imagine a temple." Arjuna quietly listened. "Your mother, Queen Kunti… she is the foundation beneath the temple—the unseen support holding everything together."
Arjuna's expression slowly changed.
Karna continued. "Your eldest brother Yudhisthira is the roof. He gives the temple identity. He shelters everyone beneath him." Then his eyes sharpened slightly. "But you four brothers…" He looked directly at Arjuna. "You are the pillars—the strength, the support, the force keeping the roof from collapsing."
Arjuna unconsciously inhaled deeper. And then Karna spoke the final part quietly.
"And Dharma itself…" He pointed toward the distant temple silhouette. "Dharma is the deity resting within that temple."
For a moment, only the wind spoke between them. Karna's voice lowered afterward.
"The moment the pillars collapse, the roof falls. And when the roof falls… the idol is shattered beneath the ruins."
Arjuna remained completely silent now. Karna slowly stepped closer.
"So do not think Yudhisthira alone protects Dharma while the rest of you merely stand beside him. No. He only preserves it. You four are the ones truly carrying its weight."
The words settled deeply inside Arjuna.
Because somewhere within himself he understood the truth behind them. Without Bhima's strength, without his own skill, without Nakula and Sahadeva's support, Yudhisthira's righteous ideals would indeed remain vulnerable before the harshness of the world.
For several long moments, Arjuna simply stood there thinking.
The young prince had always known Karna was wise. Powerful men often existed. Skilled warriors existed everywhere. But men who possessed both strength and understanding together were rare—very rare. And despite his rivalry, despite his desire to someday surpass Karna, Arjuna could not bring himself to truly dislike him.
Still, a small irritation remained. Because Karna's words often sounded too much like teachings from a guru—too direct, too sharp, too observant. Almost like judgment.
Arjuna quietly exhaled.
"I understand," he finally said.
Karna merely nodded once. Neither spoke much afterward. The night continued silently around them before they eventually parted ways beneath the moonlit corridors of the palace.
The next day became extremely busy within Hastinapura.
Preparations for the Varanavata journey consumed nearly everyone's attention.
,Servants rushed through the palace carrying luggage, ceremonial items, food supplies, blankets, weapons and royal belongings while ministers finalised travel arrangements and soldiers prepared escorts. Even Queen Kunti remained occupied throughout the day. And because of that, almost nobody paid attention to Karna.
Not that he minded. In fact, Karna himself had already decided something. Once the Pandavas departed, he too would leave Hastinapura immediately afterward.
Yet that night… everything changed.
Deep in the middle of sleep, the vision came again. But this time it was clearer than ever before.
Karna suddenly found himself standing amidst unbearable heat.
Flames roared wildly before him.
The sky above looked bright like morning, yet the entire structure before him had already collapsed into blackened ruins. Thick smoke rose endlessly upward while pieces of burning wood cracked loudly beneath falling debris.
Then he saw him.
Bhishma—the grandsire of the Kuru clan—knelt amidst the ruins.
And he was crying. Not silently. Not with restrained sorrow. But with the grief of a man whose soul itself had shattered. His dark hair looked dishevelled. Ash covered his garments. His hands trembled violently as he gathered weapons from the burned ruins one after another—a bow, a mace, an axe, a spear, a sword. Bhishma clutched them desperately while shouting aloud in grief. The sound echoed painfully through the burning ruins.
Then suddenly Karna woke up violently.
His breathing became uneven. Sweat covered his forehead and neck despite the cool night air. For several moments he simply sat there upon the bed, breathing heavily while moonlight entered faintly through the palace windows.
"This…" he murmured softly.
His heartbeat refused to calm.
The vision already felt hazy now, like smoke slipping through fingers.
Immediately Karna closed his eyes again and entered meditation. His breathing gradually slowed. Divine energy quietly spread through his consciousness. He revisited the vision carefully. Again he saw Bhishma crying amidst ruins. Again he saw the scattered weapons.
And then—Karna suddenly recognised one of the bows. His eyes widened. It was Arjuna's bow—the very bow he himself had gifted to Arjuna days earlier.
Karna's eyes snapped open immediately.
"It is not just the fire… It is the Pandavas..." The realisation struck him heavily. "Are they going to die in the fire?"
For the first time in a long while, genuine panic surfaced within him. His breathing quickened further. Sweat rolled down his temple. He immediately rose from the bed and began pacing slowly through the chamber.
"I need to stop them."
But then another thought struck him. And Karna froze completely.
No.
He could not interfere directly using divine foresight.
One could alter events. One could influence choices. But fate itself—especially death—was different. That was one of the truths he had learned from Yama. A person died only when the thread of that life reached its destined conclusion. To forcefully interfere using divine sight against fate itself violated the laws of nature.
Karna clenched his fists. Then another terrifying thought entered his mind.
Queen Kunti.
She too was going with them.
Would she also die?
His heartbeat suddenly became heavier. The thought alone disturbed him far more deeply than he expected. Sweat gathered again despite his efforts to calm himself.
What should he do?
If it were merely injury, misfortune, danger—those things could be altered.
But death tied directly to fate was different.
Karna shut his eyes tightly and sat back into meditation once more. Long minutes passed. Then finally he opened his eyes slowly. A decision had formed inside him.
The next morning, before the royal departure preparations fully began, Karna quietly called for one of the palace maids. He handed her a small folded note.
"Deliver this personally to Queen Kunti," he instructed calmly.
The maid bowed and departed. Afterward Karna did not leave his chambers again—not even when the palace grew loud with farewell preparations, not even when the Pandavas prepared to depart. He deliberately remained absent.
Meanwhile, as the royal procession finally left Hastinapura later that morning, Queen Kunti sat quietly inside her palanquin. The wheels rolled steadily across the palace roads while citizens gathered outside offering blessings for the Pandavas' journey. Yet sadness quietly lingered within Kunti's heart.
Then the maid's note reached her. Kunti slowly unfolded it while the palanquin moved gently forward. Inside, only a few lines had been written in Karna's firm handwriting.
He wished her a safe journey.
And then… a reminder.
That he still owed her an oath.
The moment Kunti finished reading it, her fingers tightened around the note slightly. Because suddenly, Karna's strange warning about fire no longer felt casual at all.
*
The royal procession carrying the Pandavas had already disappeared beyond the roads of Hastinapura by the time Karna finished his morning meditation.
He stood near the balcony of his guest chamber, looking toward the distant horizon while cool morning wind brushed against his upper cloth and moved strands of his hair lightly across his forehead. His expression remained calm outwardly, but his mind still lingered upon the visions from the previous night.
Fire.
Ruins.
Bhishma's grief.
And Arjuna's bow among the ashes.
The images refused to leave him completely.
Still, Karna had already decided something.
He would not interfere further.
He had warned Queen Kunti.
That alone was already pushing dangerously close to the boundary of fate itself.
Beyond this point…
Nature would take its own course.
Karna slowly exhaled.
"It is time to leave," he murmured softly.